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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24057784">the learned game</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/sylvainplath/pseuds/sylvainplath'>sylvainplath</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, F/M, M/M, Pre Relationship</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 18:16:13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,239</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24057784</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/sylvainplath/pseuds/sylvainplath</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Well,” she says, “we’re not good together. I mean, sure, you’re fun and you’re not straight which sort of makes you better than most men, but you’re so distant. And yeah, the two of us together is the hottest thing this university has ever witnessed, and breaking up would deprive them, but - well, yeah. We don’t work. I’m fine with shallow relationships, of course, but I think I’m enabling your unhealthy behaviors,” Hilda grins. “So let’s break up!”</p>
<p>Almost as an afterthought, she adds, voice strangely soft “And… remember Marianne? A little birdy told me she might love me back.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sylvain Jose Gautier/Claude von Riegan, past Sylvain Jose Gautier/Hilda Valentine Goneril, side Marianne von Edmund/Hilda Valentine Goneril</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>101</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>the learned game</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/shedb/gifts">shedb</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Commission for sxii Shedae who wanted Hilda dumping Sylvain and Khalid complimenting his boobs.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“So,” Hilda says, trailing two fingers across the hair on Sylvain’s chest. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She wants something, he can tell by her demeanor. She didn’t take her golden hoop earrings out before sex, which Sylvain imagines is uncomfortable. As she hoists herself up, she digs into his ribs with her elbow to set her face on her hand, the dangle of her hoops swaying with her hair. Everything she does is pretty.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sylvain is relaxed into his pillows, his hands wander down Hilda’s waist to settle casually on her ass. “So.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This has been fun, right?” she asks. “We’ve been good together, y’know?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Um. Yeah, sure?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He doesn’t love where this is going. But it’s fine, really. She’s not the type of person he ever saw himself staying with. It’s the same for her. They’ll part amicably and see each other around, maybe hookup at parties every now and again. Still, Hilda’s fun and she’s his friend. Smarter than she knows or wants anyone to know, she’s the life of the party and distracts him from things in his life that make him miserable.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well,” she says, “we’re not good together. I mean, sure, you’re fun and you’re not straight which sort of makes you better than most men, but you’re so distant. And yeah, the two of us together is the hottest thing this university has ever witnessed, and breaking up would deprive them, but - well, yeah. We don’t work. I’m fine with shallow relationships, of course, but I think I’m enabling your unhealthy behaviors,” Hilda grins. “So let’s break up!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Almost as an afterthought, she adds, voice strangely soft “And… remember Marianne? A little birdy told me she might love me back.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sylvain’s chest twinges a little. He’s almost surprised she’s admitting this to him, but he’ll take it as a sign that she does actually like him and that she wasn’t… gleeful, at the prospect of breaking up with him this way. Regardless, he’s watched her fall in love with Marianne for three years, since Hilda saw her leaving the psychiatry building and thought she’d make someone easy to pawn homework off to. She wasn’t, because although she agreed, she was terrible at everything Hilda asked her to do. Somehow that endeared her to Hilda, and now Hilda does </span>
  <em>
    <span>Marianne’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> homework. He’s not mad, but maybe he’s a little bit sad. A tiny bit. He’ll be over it by tomorrow. Hilda deserves to have who she wants.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She ruins the moment, of course.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, but I don’t want to bus it back to my apartment at 3 AM. Is it alright if I stay the night and see myself out in the morning? I’ll let you know when I’m leaving and I’ll sleep on the couch.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She knows he’d never say no to that and force her across campus in the middle of the night. He shrugs his assent.  “Sure.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hilda stretches her back before she slides off Sylvain’s chest. “Thank you for this. I know it’s… I know I’m not the best at these things.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’s not. She and Sylvain both struggle with sincerity. But they’re kindred spirits of a sort, and she’s worth more than she realizes, so he can’t begrudge her pursuit of her own happiness. Saints know he won’t pursue his own, even if he had someone he wanted the way Hilda wants Marianne.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re not, but it’s fine. Of course I understand. Go get her, ‘kay?” he says, flipping on his side. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You got it,” Hilda says quietly. She pulls his green bed sheet over him, tucking it in at the chest. She drapes his comforter around his waist. “Goodnight, Sylvain.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“...Night. Let me know how it works out.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’ll lie in bed for hours mulling over this when he wakes up later, but for now, he’s tired.</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He’s awoken by Hilda returning to his room. She shuffles around looking for anything of hers she’s left in here, but there shouldn’t be much. Sylvain has a table in the corner of his room with some of her nail polishes and hair sprays. She likes doing his nails, sometimes. She tried to straighten his hair once, using her hair spray to get it to stick the way she wanted. He looked horrible. Straight hair is not for him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry, Sylvain,” she winces, when she sees him looking at her. “... I got your coffee maker ready, if that helps.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It does. He grins at her, warmly from his chest. “C’mere a second, Hilda.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She looks around the room awkwardly, like she thinks he’ll try something. It stings, sort of. He rolls his eyes. “Really?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hilda looks down. “Sorry, I shouldn’t - I’m sorry.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She comes to him, sitting on the edge of his bed. He holds his weight on his elbow so he can sit up a bit to ruffle her hair. She hasn’t showered yet; she won’t mind too much. “Don’t feel too bad,” he tells her. “You and me, we’ll both be fine.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Will we?” she asks him, staring at him pointedly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, Hilda,” he sighs. “This is really not the end of the world.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I </span>
  <em>
    <span>know </span>
  </em>
  <span>that. I just… I don’t think you should be on your own.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re not my keeper. I’m a big boy, and I have other friends.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just take care of yourself, okay?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Scout’s honor. Go shower, you’re a mess.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>While Hilda’s in the bathroom doing her morning thing, Sylvain goes to start his coffee pot. He pulls on a random t-shirt from his morning drawer, a tight one with thin fabric. The v-neck makes his pecs look great and if you look long enough, you’ll notice the outline of his muscles. His kitchen is adjacent to the living room, so passes through on his way. There’s someone sitting on his sofa. He keeps going.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wait.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s someone sitting on his sofa.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Someone is a guy his age, with dark hair and a tasteful beard, a single gold earring and a pair of pink studs. He’s got a book in his hands, but Sylvain’s eyes are bad and he can’t see what it’s called. Sylvain’s favorite bowl is on his lap, with Sylvain’s granola in the bowl. The guy is wearing a half-zipped, pink tracksuit vest with nothing underneath. There are gaudy silver sequins all over the front, with matching low rise pink sweatpants. The outfit is too small for him, because it’s Hilda’s, so he looks kind of ridiculous. But also hot. He’s pretty hot. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Um, hi,” Sylvain says, deadpan. It’s not very welcoming. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Pretty Dude looks up from his book. “Hello, Sylvain,” he looks Sylvain up and down. “How are you doing? Nice boobs, by the way.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sylvain recoils with his entire upper body. He squints at Pretty Man. “... I know, thanks. Yours too. Wait, isn’t that Hilda’s tracksuit? How did you get in here?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not even going to ask for my name?” Pretty Dude chuckles, his green eyes darting to the bottom of his book before he closes it.  “I’m Hilda’s roommate. I just came to pick her up. She invited me in.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh. Sure, I guess. D’you want coffee?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re not going to ask how I know your name? You still haven’t asked for mine.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You really want me to, huh. Okay, I’ll bite. What’s your name?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Khalid.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, Khalid, do you want coffee?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright,” he shrugs, setting his book on Sylvain’s end table. Sylvain looks down at it while Khalid eats his granola. It’s something about architecture. Sylvain’s read it before, a few summers ago. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, come on. If you spill cereal on my sofa not even Hilda’s goodwill can save you,” he says, walking toward the kitchen. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you kidding? She’d kill me for getting her clothes dirty before you could,” Khalid laughs. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sylvain presses his coffee maker on. “Was she okay with you wearing that?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not at first, but she warmed up to it. She took pictures and everything.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sylvain points Khalid toward his small kitchen table. “So, do you study architecture or something?” he asks, pulling two mugs out of the cupboard. The better one is for him, of course. Pretty or not, he doesn’t give his favorites away to strangers. It’s not so much that this mug is better, either, but Felix and Dimitri had clumsily made it together in one of those pottery craft stores they visited at Annette’s behest and given it to him. Khalid can have the one from Ikea. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hm?” Khalid’s brows furrow. “Oh, no, not really. I’m in political science and physics. But I do find it interesting. Architecture and physics are closely related, so why not branch out a little?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I respect that,” Sylvain nods. “I’ve read that one myself. I’m sort of surprised you’d spend your free time on it, though. It’s hardly light reading.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Khalid smiles at him slightly. He’s aloof, almost cold, but not hostile. There’s something attractive about it, something that has Sylvain curious. That, and he never runs into pretty boys who read theory textbooks for fun. He’s silent as Sylvain pours coffee into the ceramic periwinkle mug. He sets cream and sugar out on the table, even though he doesn’t use them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Khalid puts cream in his coffee. No sugar. “Well, I enjoy it. Isn’t that all that matters?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course. I thought it was intriguing myself, if not a little too ambitious,” Sylvain says, pouring a bowl of dry granola.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh?” Khalid perks up. “I didn’t think so at all - or, well,” he chuckles, “I see how it could be perceived that way, but I think that’s selling ourselves short. Just because it’s an ambitious goal doesn’t mean that we shouldn’t try to, or that we can’t if we’re really dedicated to it.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Khalid sounds earnest, now. He really is enthused about this, about fulfilling one’s full architectural potential. Sylvain would like to know why. Khalid’s eyes are so bright and in his passion he speaks with his whole body, edging forward as the minutes pass, pulling things into his orbit. Such as the cereal bowls and Sylvain.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Would you mind elaborating? I’m seriously interested. I mean, why not give up on some of these ideas and use something you know will be more successful?” Sylvain asks, finally remembering his granola. He crunches on it and looks up to see Khalid’s green eyes absolutely twinkling.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hi, guys - um, </span>
  <em>
    <span>what are you doing</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” Hilda peers into the kitchen dressed and with her hair done. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Khalid and Sylvain are spread over the small table in the kitchen, scribbling on paper. Sylvain waves at her. “There’s coffee left for you.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What are you doing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just sketching something out based on a book I’ve been reading,” Khalid says, not looking up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You realize how bizarre this looks, right?” Hilda squints. “You’re wearing my clothes, with my ex boyfriend, drawing nerd shit at 12 pm.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I guess it’s time for me to go, then,” Khalid says. “Thanks for your hospitality, Sylvain, and enduring my rambling.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Huh? But I asked you… and you didn’t finish sketching!” Sylvain exclaims. He really is interested in seeing the finished sketch. But maybe he’d also like to keep Khalid around a little longer, because he’s hot and smart and that’s even hotter. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then maybe you should have my number. We can… finish it, somewhere. As long as you bring this with you,” Khalid says, staring Sylvain in his eyes, pressing their sketch in his hands. Khalid’s number is already written on it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’d be wonderful, yeah. We can meet somewhere private, maybe.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Khalid says, but he doesn’t move. He looks at Sylvain like he’s trying to see inside him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>While they’re busy staring at each other, Hilda says “ew” in the background. “Sorry to interrupt this, but I gotta go. Marianne’s gonna be in yellow, okay? Do you realize how rare that is?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re cute,” Sylvain says, patting her head. “Go get ‘em.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hilda’s smile wavers. “Yeah. Thank you.” She sends Khalid out ahead of her so she can talk to Sylvain. She slides her purse strap over her shoulder. She stands on her tiptoes and kisses his cheek. “Be well.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Khalid, huh? I don’t mind, you can have him. He’s a loser. He’s pretty private, but don’t let that upset you. He’ll warm up,” Hilda tells him before she opens the door. “Oh, but if you hurt him, I’ll hurt you. And vice versa, I don’t play favorites, you know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She flips her hair on her way out. It hits Sylvain in the face.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A few hours later, Sylvain is outlining his thesis in the library. He spots Khalid on the far end, past the coffee station, talking animatedly to Hubert, who is staring at him with a little less disdain than usual over his cup. He pulls out his phone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Khalid, it’s Sylvain. ;)</span>
  </em>
  <span> He types. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m free anytime before Sunday evening, if that works.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>im at the library rn</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Khalid replies, a few minutes later. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>So am I, but it’s no rush. Tmrw maybe? ;)</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Khalid suggests tomorrow afternoon. Sylvain agrees. But after that, when Hubert leaves, Khalid spots him and slides over to his table. They don’t go over the sketches, but they have a thrilling debate over Fodlan’s foreign relations policies that lasts long into the night. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They do finish the sketch tomorrow, at a private booth in a lunch buffet, sitting too close to be misinterpreted as friendly, and if they decide to meet again after that, and again, that’s their business.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>@sylvainplath on twt and!!! to be honest shedae has sexy art himself so check him out @shedwb</p></blockquote></div></div>
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